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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308836">Letters of Yesterday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyLeaf/pseuds/SkyLeaf'>SkyLeaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Family, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Breath of the Wild, Self-Esteem Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyLeaf/pseuds/SkyLeaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as she looked back on the events that had brought her there, Zelda was unable to pinpoint the moment that had sealed their fate.</p>
<p>Or: the journey towards the end as told by five unsent letters and one that was never delivered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule &amp; Zelda, Link &amp; Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Urbosa &amp; Zelda (Legend of Zelda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Letters of Yesterday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A little fic about the idea of letters and how Zelda's relationship with the people around her and herself might have changed in the time before the Great Calamity.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Mother</strong>
</p>
<p>Although the day had been burning hot with Zelda sweating through even her thinnest cotton dress, as she jumped out of her bed that night to make her way over to her desk, Zelda had to take her cape from where she had thrown it over the back of a chair, wrapping it around her in an attempt not to shudder as she sat down at her desk.</p>
<p>Around her, the rest of the palace was silent, but Zelda was aware of how the soldiers her father had ordered to accompany her to Gerudo Town were most likely waiting right outside the door, listening for any sign of the princess being in need of their help. Despite how Urbosa had tried her best to explain to her father that Zelda would be perfectly safe, he had insisted that either the guards would come with her, only agreeing to Urbosa’s demand that he would then at least send female soldiers when she had made it clear to him that not even Hyrule’s king would be able to change the laws she had sworn to uphold. Zelda had seen how Urbosa had turned around to blink at her when her father had finally agreed to that, clearly seeing it as a victory.</p>
<p>Zelda hadn’t agreed. She knew that she should be happy that she was allowed to go, but the guards had already been following her around when she was inside Hyrule Castle. The moment they stepped outside and began the journey to Gerudo Town, the dangerous roads that connected the two kingdoms giving them a reason to fear for her safety, it had practically been impossible for her to make them leave her alone.</p>
<p>That was the reason why Zelda did her best not to make a sound as she pulled the chair in under her, careful not to drop the inkbottle as she reached into the folded up piece of cloth to pull out her favourite quill and a couple of loose pages. It had been a present from her mother, the reason for she had called Zelda back into the room even though Zelda had already halfway left, shoving it towards her with an instruction to write to her if she needed her help. With how Zelda had been unable to sleep for the past week, only able to rest when her body was no longer able to stay awake for a moment longer, leaving her to constantly toss and turn through the night, the voices of the soldiers standing guard outside the room Urbosa had instructed for them to bring her clothes and personal possessions to when they had first arrived seeming to grow louder through the night, making it so that each time Zelda thought she might have been about to fall sleep, she would be pulled back to reality, she was sure that this was the situation her mother had intended the paper to be used for.</p>
<p>Dipping the tip of the quill in the ink, Zelda flattened the paper with her hand and tried to collect her thoughts. She knew that her mother had not been well lately, and with how her father had time and time again told her that she needed rest and that Zelda would have to wait until later to talk with her, it was clear that the last thing she needed was to receive a letter from Zelda that would only make her worry. But how could Zelda tell her the truth without making her worried? If she wrote exactly what she was thinking in that moment, that she knew that the reason her father had ended up agreeing to Urbosa’s demand for him not to send men into Gerudo Town was that he no longer wanted to be burdened with the responsibility of taking care of Zelda, the lines on his face growing deeper every time she tried to talk to him only for him to tell her that he had to leave her now to attend a meeting with the council about a new draft legislation, something Zelda could not yet hope to understand, Zelda knew that her mother would do everything she could to leave her bed and to come to be here with her, going against the orders of her doctor.</p>
<p>Zelda shuddered at the thought. No, that was the last thing she wanted.</p>
<p>The idea came to her that instant, and the next moment, Zelda leant in over the page to slowly drag the pen over the paper.</p>
<p>The lines of her letters were still slightly uneven where the tip of the quill was caught on an irregularity of the paper, but the graceful twirls she made sure to remember would hopefully make up for that. As Zelda looked back over the first sentence and saw how the ink was slowly absorbed by the paper, she knew that although her handwriting was still nowhere near as perfect and regal as that of her mother, if her tutor had been there with her, he would have given her an impressed nod at the sight of it.</p>
<p>The thought of how she would stand there, looking down at the letter, before turning towards her to let her know that she was making progress gave Zelda new energy, and while the light of the candle that sat next to her flickered in the gentle breeze that came in through the large openings that connected the end wall with the desert outside, making Zelda have to strain her eyes to be able to read what she had written, she did not stop until she had reached the end of the letter, finishing it by writing her own name, making sure that there were no imperfections to find in the lines that told her mother that she had indeed been the one to write it, the one who had thought of her when she found herself growing restless.</p>
<p>But then she truly looked at it, and, suddenly, it no longer felt like a good idea to send her mother the letter.</p>
<p>Zelda had tried her best not to let it show her stomach had tightened each time she thought about how her mother had been supposed to be there with her, the pain making it so that she had barely been able to eat since the day she had first left Hyrule Castle, but as she read through the claims that she was so busy seeing everything and learning how to write and understand the Gerudo language by reading the words engraved in the columns in the throne room, there was no doubt in Zelda’s mind that her mother would be able to tell what it really was: a letter from her daughter who had written to her mother because she missed her.</p>
<p>If only her mother had been there with her, then there would have been no need for Zelda to sit there like that, trying her best to force herself to remain upright even as she could feel her head grow heavier. For a few days, the plan had also been for the queen to accompany her daughter and friend when they would journey back to Gerudo Town, but that had all been brought to a sudden halt when Zelda’s mother had got sick.</p>
<p>Granted, that was not the explanation Zelda had been given for her mother’s absence. When she had asked Urbosa about why they didn’t make space for her mother in the carriage, Urbosa had simply smiled at her before saying that her mother wanted her to be able to experience Gerudo Town for herself. The way Urbosa had quickly looked away from her, blinking furiously, had only validated her decision not to tell her about how she had overheard her conversation with her mother as the right thing to do.</p>
<p>But the lie would not change the fact that Zelda had found herself sneaking through the castle, looking for adventures, when she had happened to walk past a door that was half-open, allowing her to listen to her mother’s voice as it filled the corridor, and that she, despite how she knew that she should turn around and head back to her room, had tiptoed closer, making sure not to make a sound and reveal herself. At first, Zelda had not been sure what her mother was talking about or whom she was talking with, only that her mother’s voice was trembling like she was about to cry as she said that it had got worse over the last months. At the time, Zelda had drawn her brows together, finding herself wondering what exactly ‘it’ was. However, she had received her answer moments later, when a person whom her mother would later introduce her to, telling her that she was Urbosa, a dear old friend, had mentioned her mother’s illness having worsened. In the shadows of her room, she could almost hear their voices being carried towards her by the wind.</p>
<p>Zelda hadn’t realised that she was crying until the tears hit the paper, making the ink bleed into the water, ruining her work. The reason her mother wasn’t there with her and that Zelda wasn’t able to simply walk over to her to tell her that she was lonely and afraid of what the future would be like for her was that she was sick; Urbosa had said that, and since she had not known that Zelda would hear it, she could not have been lying.</p>
<p>The letter almost seemed to taunt her as it lay there on the table in front of her. In that moment, the only thing Zelda wanted to do was to destroy it, to destroy all evidence of how she was still acting like a little child. She was five years old, already knew how to read and write, and yet here she was, crying over a letter she had meant to send to her mother so that she could worry about her even when Zelda knew that her mother needed rest. If her father could have seen her now, Zelda already knew how he would remind her of the responsibilities she had been given at birth by virtue of her title as the princess of Hyrule.</p>
<p>It would be so easy. The candle was still burning. All it would take was for her to help up the paper to the flame and let it eat it for her.</p>
<p>But before Zelda had got the chance to do more than pick up the paper, she heard footsteps approaching.</p>
<p>Already before Urbosa stepped into her room, Zelda knew that it would be her rather than one of the guards who would crouch down next to her, placing her hand on the table to keep her balance. Urbosa’s shoes always made the stone floor sound like it really consisted of nothing but air that was somehow able to support them all, unlike how the soldiers made it appear like they weren’t only two people but instead an entire army as they walked around in their heavy boots.</p>
<p>Still, as Urbosa looked over at the letter for a moment before once more returning her attention to her, Zelda could not help but think that it was strange how she always seemed to know exactly when a nightmare had interrupted those rare hours of sleep, how she always knew when Zelda needed company.</p>
<p>“Is something troubling you, little bird?” Urbosa asked. While she kept her gaze fixed on Zelda’s face, Zelda knew that she was talking about the letter and how Zelda was now sitting at her desk in the middle of the night with her cape wrapped around her although it was hours since Urbosa had told her that it seemed to be time for her to return to her room and get a chance to sleep.</p>
<p>For a moment, Zelda considered whether to tell her or not, the evidence pointing towards both options. After all, Urbosa was her mother’s friend, and while Zelda could not remember having ever met her before the day she had overheard the conversation between Urbosa and her mother, she could still recall the look in her mother’s eyes as she had gripped her hands tightly to tell her that she could trust Urbosa with her life. If there was one person whose judgement Zelda would never doubt, it was her mother. But even that was not enough for Zelda to ignore the fact that the letter should never have existed at all. It was proof that although her father had spent hours explaining to her how the princesses who had come before her had all had to carry heavy destinies and that the day might come where Zelda would have to do the same, Zelda had been unable to manage on her own despite having only been away from her mother for a week.</p>
<p>In the end, it was that feeling of guilt that won, making Zelda shrug in response to the question. “No, I just couldn’t sleep, so I decided to write a bit to see if that would help,” she lied. Perhaps it should have worried her how easily the lie came to her, making its way past her lips before she had even got the chance to think about it, but right then, Zelda only felt thankful that she did not have to stammer her way through a story that would only have made Urbosa realise exactly what was wrong.</p>
<p>But although Zelda had felt quite confident that she would be able to convince Urbosa to leave in just a moment, Urbosa did not react the way she had expected her to.</p>
<p>Rather than nodding and telling Zelda that she would have to go to sleep immediately so that she would be ready to resume her lectures in the morning, Urbosa sent her a scrutinising look, leaning in over the table just a bit. Zelda was able to tell that she was reading the end of the letter, but there was nothing she could do about it. If she pulled the page away from her, it would only serve to let Urbosa know that she had done something wrong, and so, Zelda readied herself for a lecture about the importance of being conscious of one’s responsibility.</p>
<p>Only, it never came. Instead of tearing the letter away from her, Urbosa looked over at her. Zelda was surprised to see that it was sadness rather than disappointment she saw reflected in her eyes.</p>
<p>“Are you missing your mother?” Urbosa said, keeping her voice so low that it was barely more than a whisper. Perhaps that was the reason for why Zelda did not immediately deny it and attempt to claim that the letter had just been meant as a distraction and that Urbosa should not think too much about what she had written in it.</p>
<p>Really, Zelda did not know the exact reasons, only that, right then, she was no longer able to stay silent about how she had spent most of the evening crying to herself, loneliness and worry only serving to intensify the effect of each emotion. So she nodded. “Yes, I—I am worried about her.”</p>
<p>“Worried about her?” Urbosa repeated, and maybe it was simply because Zelda had already spent hours crying to herself, but she was sure she could spot a hint of sadness in her voice as well. “Why are you worrying about her?”</p>
<p>“She is sick,” Zelda answered and prayed that Urbosa would not ask how she knew about that.</p>
<p>It seemed that her prayers were heard, as Urbosa, rather than asking her why she thought that, simply sent her a long gaze before responding. “And you are afraid that… you will lose her?” when Zelda nodded, not trusting herself not to cry if she tried to answer, Urbosa pulled her in for an embrace, letting it last for a couple of seconds before continuing. “I promise you that that will not happen. I will not allow it to happen.”</p>
<p>She should have asked how Urbosa would hope to stop the illness from worsening like she had already said it had. It would have been the logical thing to do, certainly what her father would have expected of her. But as Zelda gave in to the urge to lean into hug herself, still sitting on her chair as she tried to wrap her arms around Urbosa, before realising that she was so much taller than her that it would not be possible for her, Zelda did not want to ask if that would mean being forced to realise that Urbosa really would not be able to guarantee that her mother would survive.</p>
<p>It felt like ages had passed when Urbosa ended the silence in the room, and although Zelda knew that it had most likely only lasted a couple of minutes, as she sat there, with someone who was not quite her mother but someone whom her mother had told her she could trust no matter what, she truly wanted the hug to have lasted ages as Urbosa leant back again, sending the letter a short glance before taking her hand.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to ensure that you mother will get that letter?” Urbosa said. There was something about the way she said it, the way she somehow managed to make it all sound so safe, like she only had to ask her, and then Urbosa would make sure that someone she trusted would take the letter directly to her mother without her father ever having to hear about it, that made Zelda almost nod and ask her if she could hug her again. Perhaps Urbosa could see that on her face, for she slowly reached out towards the letter, maintaining eye contact with Zelda as she continued. “Because if you want to, I can take care of it. There are plenty of merchants making the journey between Gerudo Town and Hyrule Castle, and I know that many of them would be honoured to get a chance to talk with the queen and give her a letter from her daughter. If you want to, your mother can have your message tomorrow at noon. It is all up to you.”</p>
<p>Glancing back and forth between the letter and Urbosa, Zelda was not sure what to think. On the one hand, her father had explained to her countless of times that she was the princess and that she had to act like it since the princesses rarely got the luxury of having a childhood, but on the other hand, her mother had told her to trust Urbosa, and here Urbosa was, offering to make sure the letter would be taken directly to her. It was a tempting offer, and more than anything, Zelda wished that her mother could have been there with her to help her make the decision. In her tired state, it took her a few seconds too many to even realise that if her mother had been there with her, there would not have been any reason for her to try to figure out what would be the best thing to do since there would never have been a need for sending a letter in the first place.</p>
<p>But in the end, her duties were more important than the fact that Zelda doubted she would be able to sleep until her mother had come to tuck in the blanket around her, so she shook her head. “No. I—it will be fine. I just have to be though.”</p>
<p>Urbosa sent her a look that Zelda did not know how to interpret, not with how Urbosa looked at her a bit like Zelda’s mother had done when Zelda had fought back the tears after having got the news that her mother would not be able to come with them to Gerudo Town and said that she would be strong for her. Thankfully, it disappeared as Urbosa nodded slowly. “If that is what you wish. But now, I think that it is time for you to go back to sleep.”</p>
<p>Right then, Zelda was not sure if that was truly what she wished for, but she had no energy left to ponder what the biting feeling in her stomach meant, so she let Urbosa help her climb back up onto the bed, Urbosa tucking in the blanket around her before turning around to leave the room.</p>
<p>Zelda almost managed to stay silent, but as Urbosa paused for a second in the doorway, she simply was not able to keep back the question anymore. “Urbosa?” she called out into the darkness of the room, feeling how the relief made her feel a little warmer in the cold night air when Urbosa turned around to look back at her, placing a hand against the wall. “Do you—do you think that my mother will survive?”</p>
<p>“Of course I do,” Urbosa answered, but although she was able to muster a great deal of conviction, as Zelda looked over at her, she was almost sure that she saw how her face for a split second told her something else, “why would you think that she will not?”</p>
<p>Pausing for a moment to wonder whether or not Urbosa would be angry if she told her that she had stood outside the door, eavesdropping to get a chance to listen to a private conversation between her mother and Urbosa, Zelda was happy that the flickering light of the candle did not reveal her expression. “I am not sure. I just know that she is sick, and since she wasn’t able to go with us, I thought that maybe…” Zelda let the sentence trail off, not because she was unsure of what to say, but rather because she did not want to say it out loud. As long as the possibility of the worst thing imaginable happening only existed inside her own head, it felt less real in a way. Zelda knew that her father would have told her that it was silly, something only a child would convince themselves of, and still, she did not dare to say it.</p>
<p>She could not have been more grateful for how it seemed that Urbosa already knew what she meant, that she did not ask her to elaborate. But even then, Zelda could hear how Urbosa had to clear her throat before answering her, and when she did, her voice trembled slightly. “Zelda, I promise you that your mother will be just fine. Trust me, I knew her when she was younger; there was not the thing that she would not do. She really got us into quite a lot of situations that would have made anyone but her sit down on the ground and give up, but… she never did. Your mother is a fighter, so I can assure you that some little cold will not be the thing to kill her.”</p>
<p>Although a part of her could not help but whisper to Zelda that the disease that had bound her mother to her bed was not a mere cold, Zelda wanted to believe what Urbosa was saying so badly that she forced herself to ignore it, instead smiling at Urbosa and thanking her.</p>
<p>As Zelda heard the sound of Urbosa’s footsteps grow fainter, she jumped out of her bed once more. Making sure that she would not accidentally trip over anything in the sparse lightning and risk either the guards or Urbosa coming back to find her out of bed again, Zelda moved over to grab her letter. In the darkness of the room, she stared at it for a second, imagining what it would be like to run after Urbosa and tell her that she had changed her mind and that if Urbosa could make sure that her mother would get it, then Zelda would be grateful for it.</p>
<p>Then, not giving herself a chance to think the plan through, Zelda stuck the letter into the bright flame of the candle. It took a second, but then the fire spread onto the paper, slowly but surely eating its way through the words Zelda had spent ages making sure where spelt correctly, each letter being as close to perfect as Zelda could make them. She held onto the letter for as long as she possibly could, but as the flames began to lick against her fingers, Zelda dropped it to the floor, glad that the stones would ensure that the fire could not spread to anything else as the letter soon became nothing but a small pile of ash that the wind soon took care of.</p>
<p>Zelda went back to bed, at once both relieved that she would be able to return home to find her mother and talk with her in only a couple of weeks and to look at her father and know that she had done everything she could have done to not let him down, but also saddened by how Urbosa had looked at her when she had asked about her mother. But as she so often did, she forced herself not to think about it, and before long, sleep did find her, granting Zelda a couple of hours where she did not have to think about anything.</p>
<p>Of course, when she returned home, Zelda did not find her mother waiting for her in the courtyard, already reaching out towards her to let Zelda run over to her, for once forgetting about the way a proper princess was supposed to behave to let her mother lift her up and spin her around. Instead, Zelda returned home to a funeral.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>His Majesty, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule</strong>
</p>
<p>Every single muscle in her body was aching. Zelda was not sure if it was the hours she had spent on a horse to reach the Spring of Courage or the cold waters of the spring she had spent hours standing in, feeling how her thin dress did not do much to protect her from the icy bite of the water as the ceremonial garment became heavier while it soaked up the water, that had made it so, but she did know that she would not be able to ignore the pain. However, that knowledge would not keep her from trying.</p>
<p>So the moment Zelda returned home, only stopping for a moment to make another attempt at speaking to her father, the king merely glancing at her as she told him about the journey, how she had tried eating a new plant as they had travelled through the jungle with the result that she had spent the rest of the evening vomiting it back up, before he dismissed her with a short wave, Zelda ran towards her room.</p>
<p>If there was one thing about the many failures she had been through since her father had declared that she would have to begin her training to unlock her powers that Zelda was at least able to somewhat enjoy, it was the fact that the servants all avoided her, maids stepping aside, the mountains of washed clothes they carried through the hallways wobbling dangerously, and messengers glaring at her as she sprinted past them.</p>
<p>In a way, Zelda supposed that it should have bothered her more to know that she was practically surrounded by people who only tolerated her due to her title and the powers she might one day be able to manifest, but right then, as she fought against the feeling of despair that only grew inside her chest with each journey that proved to be futile, each time Zelda was forced to return home after weeks of praying to the goddess for help to inform her father that she had yet to reach the same powers her mother had possessed before her, she was only happy that no one tried to talk with her.</p>
<p>Once, just after her mother’s funeral, Zelda had cried when she had overheard two maids whisper about how the death of the queen had doomed the kingdom since the princess now had no one to teach her about her powers, but she had grown up since then. Now, she was seven years old, and where she might have cried about the gossip that was passed around in the dark corridors of the castle when she had been six, Zelda was wiser, less likely to let any of that affect her. Besides, it was not like she would be able to make protests. As long as she would still find herself unable to fulfil her duties and channel her powers, Zelda would simply have to make up for it by being the perfect picture of a princess. And a proper princess did not allow the gossip of those around her to affect her. That was what her father had told her, and so, that was what she would do.</p>
<p>But as Zelda reached the privacy of her own chambers, she could not deny that the warm sensation in her eyes was not merely a late reaction to the way she had shivered while halfway submerged in the icy waters of the spring. No, it was tears, and although she tried her best to wipe them away, Zelda could see how they hit the paper she had failed to put away the day before she had left for the spring. At least the tears only ruined the edge of it, sparing the other half where hurried scribbles and messy sketches revealed how Zelda had spent the few minutes she had been able to steal for herself in between the daily lectures and travels to the different sacred sites that were scattered throughout the country trying to figure out the mechanics behind the technology that was still being excavated all around Hyrule.</p>
<p>It was then that an idea struck her. Although her father never seemed to have time for her when she went to see him, perhaps if she left a letter for him, then he would find the time to read it. Already, the doubt was rising in her chest, but Zelda fought to push it back down. It could work. It really could. She just had to make sure that the letter was perfect. If her father could see the same elegant handwriting, all of the twirls that her tutor had praised her for, then Zelda knew that he would sit down to read it. He had to.</p>
<p>And so, finding new hope in her plan, she leant in over the table, pulling a blank piece of paper closer to her and looking twice to make sure that she had not failed to see a drawing that would surely only serve to further annoy her father, placed the tip of her quill against the paper, and began working on her message.</p>
<p>It was a painstakingly slow process as Zelda found herself lost for words. There had been a time where she had been able to let the words flow through her like she was merely a tool for her thoughts to make their way onto the paper, but it was long gone now. Perhaps it was simply because her fingers were still stiff after the hours she had spent in the spring, but forming the words and stringing them together to form sentences did not feel as easy as it once had. Still, Zelda did not give up. This was her chance; she just had to make sure it would be perfect. When she imagined the way her father would read it, pay attention to how she told him that she needed him before lifting her up like her mother had always done, like Urbosa was currently doing when she visited, Zelda found the energy to ignore her tired limbs, disregarding the way her body was begging her to sleep to instead continue.</p>
<p>She almost managed to reach the end of the letter, but as Zelda lifted the quill from the paper, having just placed the last full stop, she found that she was not able to write her own name. It was not a matter of her brain being too tired to remember which way each letter was supposed to face, for when she closed her eyes, Zelda knew exactly what they were supposed to look like next to each other. Rather, it was a matter of her realising the stupidity of her plan.</p>
<p>Here she was, having just failed the task the king had given to her, and then she was considering writing to him, ignoring the way she was supposed to be the princess to instead act like a little child, begging for their parent’s love and attention. As Zelda let her gaze travel over the words once more, she saw the pathetic tone that was present throughout her entire letter, the way she was so quick to disregard how she had disappointed the entire kingdom when she had returned back home to allow her pained expression to let everyone know that their princess had still not been able to fulfil the destiny that had been chosen for her from the moment she had been born into the royal family. Even as she sat in the comfort of her own room, she could still hear the way they would whisper about her in the streets, and in that moment, she could understand why her father did not want to see her. As the princess, it was not only her they were disrespecting when they whispered about her failures—they were also insulting her father.</p>
<p>The idea that she would be able to scribble a couple of words onto a piece of paper and fix everything, that she would be able to write a couple of empty words about how she was lonely, how she was sure that if she only knew that she would be able to come to him when she needed a parent’s help, then she would figure out how to access her powers, something that would imply that she was trying to shift the blame for her own failures onto someone else, was ridiculous, Zelda could see that now. It was something a child would do, and Zelda was a princess—not a child. She had to act like it.</p>
<p>So although she knew that if she could remove the meaning from her words and show what she had written to her tutor, he would no doubt tell her that the way she had finished the letters, the way Zelda had emphasised the important words by exaggerating the lines ever so slightly, was perfect, Zelda reach out towards the letter. Slowly, she began to rip it apart, pulling from one end to another, before placing both halves on top of each other to repeat the process once again. It was not worth it. Zelda would not risk embarrassing her father, or even worse, make him doubt that she would ever be able to muster up the strength that was required of her. For if there was one thing Zelda knew would be even worse than spending hours standing in the springs while feeling how the coldness of the water slowly drained her of all the energy that had ever been present in her tired mind, the ice feeling like a thousand knives were poking all over her body as she forced herself to remain focused and to continue to pray, it was the thought of her father looking at her and tell her that she clearly wasn’t mature enough to handle the responsibilities he had entrusted her with. Zelda would spend entire days standing in the water with only her thin gown to keep her warm before she would ever let that happen, she was sure of that.</p>
<p>But even as Zelda tried to convince herself of that, she could not deny that she wanted to piece together the letter again, make an attempt at repairing it so that she could run to her father and hand it to him. It was a foolish idea, Zelda knew that, but in the silence of her chamber, in the moment where Zelda only had herself for company, she would almost have enjoyed listening to her father as he would ask her to come over to stand next to his desk before he would slowly explain to her why it was so important that she would find her powers in time and the way he would smile at her for a moment before asking if she understood. Although she already knew how it would hurt in her heart when she would find herself unable to do anything but to agree and to apologise for having disappointed him, right then, Zelda only wanted to be able to go to him and talk with him even if it was only to be told that she had to be conscious of how people were looking to her to find hope.</p>
<p>Still, Zelda picked up the remains of the letter, making sure that she had not left even the smallest trace of her weakness behind before she went over to her fireplace and threw the pieces into the flames one by one, watching as the fire devoured it all.</p>
<p>Only a little hour later, her peace was disturbed by her father sending a servant to escort her to his study, Zelda walking along next to the man, struggling to keep up with him as he led her down the stairs, barely waiting to make sure that she was still with him before he turned around the corners in the labyrinthine corridors of the castle.</p>
<p>Stepping into the study, Zelda could not help but to stand on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the book her father had placed on the table in front of him, but the moment he noticed her presence, King Rhoam closed it and looked over at her. If Zelda had hoped that he would perhaps have welcomed her home after the week she had spent away from the castle, she would have been disappointed since he simply looked at her for a moment before informing her that he was disappointed with her, but that they would simply have to continue to pray to the goddess for answers until Zelda would finally find her powers.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was for the better that Zelda had already stopped hoping for comforting words a long time ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Urbosa</strong>
</p>
<p>The years passed and with them, so did Zelda’s hope that her father would one day pull her aside after one of her journeys to the springs to tell her how proud he was of her. Of course, deep down, Zelda could admit that she had known it for years, but it was not until an early autumn day that it all finally made sense to her, the moment where she found the last, hidden, piece of the puzzle and realised that, no matter what she would do, it would never be good enough. Even if she were to unlock the secrets to her powers the very same day, Zelda was sure that she would only receive a cold nod from her father if she were to attempt to tell him, to try to nurse any hope that it might finally be enough for him to hug her and tell her that she was like her mother, capable of harnessing the powers that had been handed down to her.</p>
<p>Perhaps it should have made her feel better—after all, her nurse had spent many nights sitting next to her, trying to calm her when she was crying, and telling her that certainty was always for the best, even if the truth hurt—but, to tell the truth, Zelda preferred the days where she had been able to convince herself that all it would take her for her father to find time to see her was her coming home after a successful journey. Back then, she had at least been able to believe that it was only a question of time before the coldness that had affected all of their, admittedly rare, interactions since her mother’s death would disappear again.</p>
<p>But, of course, it things would never become any better. If anything, Zelda found that her father found more and more reasons not to see her as the years passed by. It had been years since she had been young enough for the nurse to have much to do, and yet, Zelda’s father had yet to inform her that they would not have use of her anymore, that Zelda was old enough to take care of herself.</p>
<p>However, even though Zelda knew that it was not a good sign that it was still her nurse who woke her up in the morning and helped her through the day before kissing her forehead when she would go to sleep at night, she still feared the day where her father would finally look at her and realise that, as a ten-year-old, Zelda had already reached the point where she should have been able to take care of most of her own life for years. Although she could not quite stop thinking about how the presence of one of the few people in the castle who were still willing to talk to her was a constant reminder of the distance between herself and her father, Zelda knew that if the nurse were to leave, she would be completely alone.</p>
<p>Or, at least, she would be completely alone while in the castle. As cold as Hyrule Castle was with the stares and whispers, at least she would always have Gerudo Town and someone who would talk with her about her mother, someone who had told her that she would always be there for her. Still, that did not do much to quell the feelings of isolation that grew as the days passed. For while it was true that Urbosa would make sure to visit her, to sit down to talk with Zelda and share stories about her mother, each time she found a reason to make the journey through the desert and over Hyrule Fields, fact was that Urbosa could only do so much while also being the ruler of her own kingdom.</p>
<p>So, although Zelda was aware that Urbosa was trying her best to be there for her, it still was not quite enough. When it came to a parental figure, Zelda supposed that the nurse really was the one who came closest to being able to claim that title. How ironic that, though Zelda in many ways had everything, she did not have a parent whose name she did know, a parent who would not be sure to leave her in the end.</p>
<p>Of course, there were times where Zelda was almost—almost, but not quite—able to forget about how the silent encouragements the nurse would be sure to make time for, how she would always try to be there for her, or had at least made an effort to be present in her room when Zelda would wake up after having spent a week in bed after the cold waters of the springs had made her so sick she could barely talk, were all on borrowed time.</p>
<p>And, truly, there were those few moments where she almost succeeded, little glimpses of joy. Such was the case of their morning ritual. As much as she might pretend to find the ceremony annoying, as she sat there in front of her vanity that morning with the knowledge that she would soon have to journey to the sacred springs looming above her head, wincing as the nurse put a bit too much force into brushing her hair, she only had to look at her reflection to know that she was not able to mask her joy entirely.</p>
<p>“I am sorry, Zelda,” the nurse said when Zelda was not able to hide how she had to fight to keep back a tiny cry of pain, “but after we neglected to brush your hair last night—”</p>
<p>The apologetic tone in her voice almost hurt more than the fact that she was pulling at her hair, so Zelda interrupted her, simply wanting it to stop. “I know, I know. If I had had the energy and patience to do this yesterday, then it would not have been this difficult today.”</p>
<p>Although Zelda was sitting so that she was facing away from the nurse, when she heard her speak again, Zelda could already tell that she was smiling as she paused for a moment to wordlessly push something closer to Zelda with one hand, the other still holding the strands of hair they had already worked their way through. One look at it, Zelda trying her best to make sure that she would not disrupt the nurse’s work, revealed that it was a few sheets of paper, an inkbottle, and Zelda’s best quill, the blue one her father had made the nurse bring her on her last birthday.</p>
<p>“What is the meaning of this?” Zelda asked, trying to catch the nurse’s gaze in the mirror, a task she immediately failed at as the nurse had already directed her attention back towards her hair, the way she pulled at it telling Zelda that she was trying her best to plait it. But although it took a while before she got an answer, part of Zelda already knew what it was for, and she would have lied if she tried to say that the idea of it did not sound a lot more inviting than simply sitting still, unable to focus on anything but the occasional fight not to wince as the brush was caught on a tangle of hair.</p>
<p>“I thought that you might want to write a letter,” the nurse said, confirming Zelda’s suspicion of what her reasoning for pushing the inkbottle closer to her had been, “to take your mind off the discomfort.” from the way she hesitated, clearly trying her best to gauge whether or not it would be appropriate for her to add anything more, Zelda could already tell what the nurse would be about to suggest, and yet, it somehow managed to make her feel like all the air had disappeared from her lungs all the same as the nurse continued. “I thought that you might want to write a letter to His Majesty. I—although I know how you feel, I am certain that, after how you returned to the castle more dead than alive yesterday, he would be relieved to hear from you, to hear that you are all right.”</p>
<p>Had it not been for how Zelda knew from years of experience that it would only have resulted in the tone of nurse’s voice becoming sharper as she would tell her to remember her manners, Zelda might have laughed. The idea that her father would want to receive a letter from her, much less a letter telling him how she was all right rather than one to apologise after she had returned home from her journey to the Spring of Courage, a journey that had been nothing but another failure, was so absurd that laughing was her instinctive reaction.</p>
<p>But, trying to remind herself how she had no one but herself to thank for that, and that the nurse was just here to help, Zelda forced herself to nod as much as the handful of hair the nurse was holding would allow her to. “Yes, that might be a good idea,” Zelda heard herself say with a voice that sounded so lifeless that she would almost have thought that the nurse would notice it and remind her to tell the truth, even if it hurt. Quickly deciding to add another reason that would be closer to the truth to ensure that the nurse would not immediately be able to tell how her hands were shaking at the mere thought of sending her father a letter, she continued, “especially since it would serve as a distraction from all of this.” Zelda gestured towards a spot near the top of her head where she could feel how the plaits and the numerous hairpins were weighing down on her already tired head.</p>
<p>Perhaps her nurse had been able to tell that it was a lie, but had simply decided that it would be better not to comment on it and instead lean to the side to be able to send Zelda a short smile in the mirror before once more returning to her work. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed anything. Zelda was not sure which of those she would prefer to be the truth, but no matter what was the case, she soon found herself following her advice, pulling the paper closer to herself.</p>
<p>It was difficult to write while not being able to move her head more than a couple of centimetres, Zelda discovered, not even to mention how the nurse reached out for the brush to make a few tangles disappear just as Zelda had been about to dip her quill in the ink, the result being that Zelda came dangerously close to knocking over the inkbottle as her arm jerked in response to the pain.</p>
<p>“I am sorry,” the nurse said, looking up, looking at Zelda in the mirror, “I had not considered that—”</p>
<p>“No, it is fine. I just was not expecting for that to happen.”</p>
<p>As Zelda was able to dip the quill in the ink without risking covering the entire table with it, resting the tip of the quill against the paper, she was faced with an unforeseen problem. She could not make herself write her father’s name. Of course, Zelda knew exactly how to write it, how her father’s titles would look on paper; she could practically form the swirly letters in the word ‘King’ in her sleep. But it was not a matter of knowing how to spell the collection of titles and names. No, the thing keeping her from writing empty phrases about how she wanted to apologise for her failures was the fact that, somewhere inside of her, Zelda could hear a voice telling her that her father did not deserve such a letter.</p>
<p>It was a bad thing to think, to want to blame her father for the feelings her own failures had brought with them, but as she said there and heard how the nurse hummed a lullaby, Zelda knew that she would not be able to write a letter to him, not now at least. But then whose name could she write in the top right-hand corner of the piece of paper?</p>
<p>The answer came to her the next second, and as Zelda readied herself, readjusting the quill so that it would be easier to hold it, she could almost not believe that she had not thought of it before. The way Urbosa’s name almost made the rest of the letter flow through her arm and onto the paper told her that she had been right. From the second her nurse had pushed the paper, quill, and inkbottle in front of her, Zelda had been meant to write to Urbosa, and as she began to detail how she had found herself with no other choice than to let a guard carry her to her chambers when she had returned from her latest journey to awaken her powers, only to collapse and fall to the floor the moment she stepped into the throne room to inform the king of her return, told her how it had been months since she had truly talked with someone other than her nurse, Zelda could almost feel how the silent plea for Urbosa to return to Hyrule Castle, to return to her, was so obvious that Zelda might as well have walked all the way to Gerudo Town herself to yell it at her.</p>
<p>“I think we are finished here, Your Highness,” her nurse said, pulling Zelda back to the present and the realisation that the pain of the brush pulling at her hair had disappeared, instead being replaced with the dull sensation of the hairpins keeping her hair in place.</p>
<p>Zelda must have lost herself in her letter, for although she could almost hear the stupidity in the question she could not keep back as it passed from her brain directly to her mouth.</p>
<p>“We are?”</p>
<p>Luckily, the nurse simply chuckled at her. “We are indeed.” then, glancing down towards the letter, she reached out towards the piece of paper even before she had continued. “Do you want me to make sure that that will be taken to the king immediately?”</p>
<p>“No!” Zelda could hear how she yelled, and from the way her nurse took a step back, withdrawing her hand, she knew that it had not been a matter of her simply talking a bit too loudly. No, she had truly yelled.</p>
<p>Snatching the letter and pressing it against her chest, making sure that the nurse would not be able to see whose name decorated the top of it, Zelda took a deep breath and tried her best to calm her heart that was currently beating so fast that it felt like it had been replaced with a warm darner, the tiny insect currently flying around just a few centimetres away from where she was pressing her hand and the letter to her chest.</p>
<p>“No,” she repeated, a bit calmer this time, “thank you, but I… I am not ready for anyone to read this. Especially the king.”</p>
<p>When her nurse answered, Zelda could not help but wonder whether or not she had guessed that the letter had never been meant for Zelda’s father, for there was something in her voice, the way it sounded like she had to try her best to make sure that it would not tremble as she answered, that told her that she was at least partially aware of the reasons for her panic at the thought of her father reading the letter.</p>
<p>“I understand. I take it that you want the letter destroyed then?”</p>
<p>Zelda considered what would happen if she told the nurse no, that, actually, the letter was to instead be brought to the palace that rested at the end of the largest road in Gerudo Town so that Zelda could cling onto the hope that Urbosa would come back for her and use the same kind of arguments that had made her able to bring Zelda along as she travelled home while her mother and Urbosa’s friend had been sick so many years ago. At least then she would be able to maintain that hope until the reply would inevitably come, an attempt at explaining why it simply could not happen like that being unavoidable. Already, Zelda could picture the way Urbosa would try her best to tell her that there was still hope, that Zelda would only have to wait a little longer, then her powers would awaken and all would be fine once more.</p>
<p>But the truth was that that would never happen.</p>
<p>So Zelda nodded. “Yes.” she saw how her nurse reached out towards the letter and quickly moved to shield it. “And I will take care of it.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Zelda could see how the nurse hesitated, the way her eyes moved from one side of her face to the other telling Zelda that she had already guessed that it would perhaps be for the better to say no, to insist that Zelda would hand over the letter to her so that she could take care of it. And, despite everything, she was probably right, Zelda knew that. She knew that if she did give the nurse the letter, choosing the least painful option, she would never even consider reading it, not without Zelda’s permission. And yet, she still pressed the letter a little closer to her chest as the nurse sighed.</p>
<p>“Very well, princess. If that is what you want.”</p>
<p>“It is,” Zelda said, trying her best to keep the doubts out of her voice, “and thank you for your company, but I wish to be left alone for a bit.”</p>
<p>The nurse left the moment she had been ordered to, for even though Zelda sometimes liked to imagine that she really was her mother, that her mother had for some reason decided that she would not be able to continue her life as the queen of Hyrule, had faked the illness and her death before returning as the nurse to stay with her—who was to say that it could not have happened, Zelda had after all not been present when she had died—she was paid by her father, and as such, Zelda’s title granted her more power in any conversation between them than what she would have had if she had talked to either her mother or Urbosa.</p>
<p>She tried her best to push the thoughts away as the nurse closed the door, the soft thud telling Zelda when it was safe to jump up from the chair, no longer having to hide how her hands shook as she walked over to the fireplace.</p>
<p>It took a while with how there was almost nothing but a couple of embers left from the fire that had kept her warm through the night, but at last, Zelda did manage to make the fire reach the corner of the letter she held next to it, and as she stood up, she could see the way the fire slowly moved up, eating through the lines where she had complained about the many empty and silent corridors that surrounded her, past the place where she had told Urbosa about how she had not felt happy since she had come to visit her three months ago. In the end, it even caused Urbosa’s name to fade, reducing it to ash. By then it was so close to reaching her hand that Zelda saw herself faced with no other option but to let the letter fall back into the fireplace. So that was what she did, and as she stood there, watching as the ash from the letter became hidden among the ash of the fire, Zelda could almost have made herself admit to the empty room that a part of her still wanted to salvage what little of the letter she could still find in her mind and send it to Urbosa so that she might be saved. But since she was the princess, the one who was supposed to save rather than to be saved, Zelda forced herself not to dwell on the thought, instead moving over to grab her quill so that she would be ready for the lectures she would no doubt have to face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Link</strong>
</p>
<p>Zelda’s life changed the day her father came to her to tell her that a boy had revealed incredible abilities. At first, Zelda had not thought that it would ever become her problem—there were plenty of talented people in the kingdom, and other than sometimes having to present them with a medal for their achievements, smiling through the entire ceremony even when she had only returned from her latest desperate journey to the sacred sites hours before, Zelda rarely found herself forced to interact with them—but her father made sure to change that comfortable ignorance in an instant.</p>
<p>“And since Ganon’s powers have only grown with each passing day,” her father had said, the silent criticism of Zelda’s lack of progress being so clear to both of them that he did not even have to mention it for Zelda to instinctively stand up straighter, wanting to do her best to at least perfect what areas she could gain control over, “I have decided that you will need to have someone guarding you at all times. A chosen knight, if you will.”</p>
<p>“And who might this knight be?” Zelda had asked, although she already knew what the answer would be, the knot in her stomach that grew tighter every second feeling more and more like it should have made her faint ages ago. At least that way, Zelda would have been able to make sure that she would not be forced to listen as her father continued.</p>
<p>“His name is Link; he is the most promising recruit I have seen in my life, exhibiting a great deal of courage. In fact, I think we might have found the Hero of Legends already.”</p>
<p>The way her father said it, with so much admiration in his voice, his face seeming to grow younger as he stared out towards the horizon with an almost fond look in his eyes, made Zelda already know that, whoever this Link was, she did not like him. Not when he had already been able to take what should rightfully have been hers, her father’s love and admiration, away from her without even having been present in the room. It simply was not how it was supposed to be; in the legends, the princess had always been adored by her people. It was the hero who was sometimes supposed to fight for his place in the story, not her. And yet, here they were, Link having somehow managed to do what Zelda had not been able to achieve: to make the king sound like he knew that he had a child.</p>
<p>In a way, Zelda knew it was her own fault. The thing that separated her and Link was the fact that were she had failed, Link had succeeded. Where she had shown time and time again that all she could really do was to try her best to explain to her father why the fact that no matter what she did, her powers simply refused to manifest was not her fault, Link had somehow managed to prove that he was the hero within only a couple of months after arriving at the castle for the very first time.</p>
<p>Zelda knew all of that, but that did not change the fact that, from the very first time she saw Link, looked down at him while he was kneeling in front of her, waiting for her blessing, and realised just why people would trust him only seconds after meeting him with how he was able to look at everyone, even Zelda, like he truly believed that they could achieve great things, she only wanted for him to leave. If she would wake up one morning to find a note from Link detailing how he would not be able to continue to be her chosen knight, that he had chosen to return home to his family, Zelda knew that it would only make her life better.</p>
<p>But Link did not leave. No matter how many times Zelda could feel his gaze linger on her when they travelled through the kingdom, feeling how he judged her every time she was forced to leave the water to tell that nothing had changed, she was still broken and unable to claim what had supposed to be hers from the moment she had been born, the desperation leading to her taking her anger out on him, all but directly telling him to leave as she tried her best to make him feel just a little bit as miserable as she did, Link stayed.</p>
<p>Sometimes, when she was alone, Zelda could admit that she knew that she should be grateful that he had not once told the king about her childish behaviour, that he had not used the fact that the king so obviously preferred him and the vision of an easy victory he represented to his advantage.</p>
<p>And yet, she continued. She supposed that part of it was due to how it simply did not feel right that Link had everything, the power, the prestige, her father’s love and respect, and that she wanted him to at least lose the smile and carefree look that he always seemed to wear, even when faced with her anger and comments about his abilities as both a knight and as the hero, but all it achieved was that Link stopped talking to her, the way he would sometimes say her name while helping her down from a particularly tall rock formation, completely ignoring how Zelda had told him multiple times that she could take care of herself and did not need his help, and how Link sometimes commented on the view while they were both riding through the fields, disappearing little by little.</p>
<p>Zelda did not miss those moments where Link had talked to her until they were gone. It was not until she could almost physically feel the silence between them and knew how it felt to have to take Link’s hand to let him help her up from a spring, only able to guess what he was thinking about her as he looked down at her with a look that could almost have been pitying had it not been for how Zelda knew that no one would pity her when she was endangering the kingdom, that she knew how much better it had been to at least be able to listen to his voice from time to time.</p>
<p>In the end, Zelda was almost grateful for how the Yiga Clan attacked. Even as the fear washed over her in the moment, the knowledge that this would be her last moments alive, that the goddess had realised how Zelda was never able to manifest her powers and had decided to give them another chance, a new princess, by starting a new cycle, being all too clear to her, she had been able to find comfort in the fact that it would end soon.</p>
<p>However, before the assassin could bring down the blade, Link had somehow appeared in front of her, and although Zelda had barely spoken to him for the past six months he had spent as her knight other than to insult him, he stood there, letting the Yiga footsoldiers know that he would not move even a centimetre, with the sword her father had so often talked about held high, ready to defend both himself and her if the Yiga Clan would move closer to them. But they hadn’t. Perhaps the members of the Yiga Clan had seen even the slightest hint of the determination that Zelda could almost feel radiate from Link and had realised that this was not a fight they would be able to win, for they had turned around and disappeared.</p>
<p>They had returned home to the castle later that evening, Zelda not even noticing that she was shaking until she had seen Link reaching up to unfasten the cape he had thrown around himself before slowly, almost like he was not quite sure that she would not immediately begin to yell at him again, placing it around her shoulders.</p>
<p>As Zelda almost automatically reached up to ensure that the cape would not fall to the floor, that the fabric would not have to touch the dust, she wished that she could say that she was shaking from the cold. But as she made her way to her chambers, Zelda found herself forced to admit the truth. The reason she was shaking was that her entire world had just been shaken as well.</p>
<p>Link had saved her. Although she had been nothing but cold to him, ready to insult him and to try to make him feel as bad about himself as Zelda did about herself, he had risked his life to save hers even when he could just as easily have left her alone out there and told the king that she had sneaked away from him. It would have been nothing but the truth, and with how much the king adored Link, Zelda was almost completely sure that no one would really have tried to hold him responsible for her death. But in the end, although the few snippets of conversation they had shared over the past six months had let Zelda know that Link was sure to have figured out the same thing, he had decided to save her, to physically stand between her and the danger, shielding her from those who had tried to harm her.</p>
<p>She had to do something. Zelda was not sure exactly what it would be, but as she looked down to find that she had somehow made her way over to her desk, she knew that she had to do something to apologise for how she had treated Link. But the question of what that something would be remained unanswered.</p>
<p>Her gaze landed on the loose pieces of paper that still covered a good part of the desk after a servant had interrupted her in the middle of the process of trying to figure out what made the Divine Beasts able to move despite their great weight to inform her that the king wished to see her immediately. In that moment, Zelda knew what she would have to do, her hands reaching out towards both the quill and the inkbottle almost instinctively.</p>
<p>A letter. That was the answer. Zelda could express herself through a letter, write all of the things she wanted Link to know on the paper, and tell a servant to bring the letter to her personal knight. Then, Link would then be able to read how she was sorry for all the times she had taken her anger out on him and that she wished she could take back all of the things she had said to him while blinded by anger, bitterness, and desperation.</p>
<p>The letter grew longer, Zelda soon having to dig through her drawers to find more paper, the stack to her left only growing each time Zelda had to move on to the next piece of paper, and although she tried her best to make her apology brief, the sun had time to both disappear behind the horizon and climb over the sky before she was satisfied, supressing a yawn as she looked at the letter, if the stack of paper, each page filled with neat lines of text hoping to explain to Link that she was sorry, could even be called a letter.</p>
<p>But, just as quickly as it had disappeared, the doubt filled her stomach once more, and in that second, Zelda realised that she had been wrong. Here she was, still allowing the distance between herself and Link to grow. He had saved her life after she had spent months trying her best to drag him down into the same sea of sadness it sometimes felt like the goddess had thrown her into, and yet, she was still unable to even apologise to him, instead choosing to sit down for hours to avoid ever having to face him and see that she had hurt him while apologising.</p>
<p>It was wrong, Zelda knew that, so she did not even give herself a chance to make excuses, instead grabbing the entire stack of pages that could barely qualify as a letter, much less an apology after all she had done, and walking over to the fireplace.</p>
<p>Zelda did not look back at it as she threw it into the flames, instead letting the sound of the fire crackling as it devoured the meaningless phrases encourage her to hurry as she left her chambers to instead find Link.</p>
<p>She had to apologise to him, and this time, Zelda would make sure to do it correctly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Purah</strong>
</p>
<p>If someone would ask her later, Zelda would not be able to tell when the relationship between her and Link had shifted from being defined by her attempts at understanding him, making sure to ask him about his life and what he thought about the journey ahead of them when she would invite him to ride next to him, having to assure him multiple times that it was fine, that they were far away from the castle, and that there was no need to act the way the king would expect them to, with Link always standing behind her, silently making sure that she was safe, to instead become something that might almost be a true friendship.</p>
<p>Though Zelda could tell that Link always kept in mind how she was the princess, and that the only reason he was there next to her as she walked into the waters of the springs was that her father had said that it would be so, little by little, Link did begin to respond when she would try to ask him about what kind of books he preferred to read, what he would eat if he only had one day left to live. It was the last question that marked the day when she had finally heard him say more than a couple of sentences, Link for once looking like the seventeen-year-old he really was rather than the knight who had already grown up years ago her father had introduced her to when he had begun to wave his hands around, trying to explain what the dish his mother would always make when he returned home tasted like.</p>
<p>Yes, Zelda would not be able to pinpoint the moment where she no longer had to be careful to ensure that she would not give him a reason to fall silent again. All she knew was that, only a couple of months after the attack, Zelda could no longer remember why she had been so angry with him at first. She could remember the jealousy, of course she could, and there were times when the king would send her to her chambers, telling her that she had to work harder, to push herself more in her quest to find her powers, where Zelda had to remember that it had nothing to do with Link, but the way his mere presence had once been enough to make her blood boil with anger was so far away from how they behaved around each other that Zelda could not recall the sensation of anger boiling in her stomach anymore.</p>
<p>But even then, with how silent Link still was, it was difficult to gauge whether he answered her questions with a friendly smile because that was what they were, friends, or if it had been caused by her title. It would be understandable, but as the weeks passed, that worry gradually lessened. Instead, he seemed to have truly meant it the one time he had looked up at her, placing the plate of fruitcake on top of a stack of books to tell her that he knew she was doing everything she could to awaken her powers.</p>
<p>Back then, Zelda had only stammered something about how she was happy he thought that, but that she feared that she would still have to do more. The next day, she found herself wondering if it had really happened, or if she had perhaps only dreamt it, if the feelings of inadequacy had finally been able to affect her dreams as well.</p>
<p>Zelda had got the chance to confirm that Link really meant it sooner than she had expected, but by then, she would much have preferred to be left with her doubts.</p>
<p>In hindsight, Zelda could admit that she should have known that the moment would come. There was only so many times she would be able to return to the castle to tell that she had still found herself unable to claim the powers that had been given to her while maintaining the level of freedom she had enjoyed. But still, as the king came to her while she was standing on the bridge that connected her chambers with her study, showing Link how the bridge provided the perfect vantage point for taking in the sight of the Guardians, Zelda allowed herself a moment of hope, a split second where she could think that he had perhaps come to tell her that he was proud of her and how she had continued with her prayers through the night the last time she and Link had journeyed to the remote corners of Hyrule, only falling asleep when her legs had no longer been able to support her.</p>
<p>But of course, that had not been the case, and only a couple of minutes later, Zelda found herself without the one thing she had always been able to count on, the only thing she had ever been good at. She was no longer allowed to continue her research into the ancient tech they were digging up from the ground each and every day.</p>
<p>She must have stood there on the bridge for an eternity after the king had left, or at least Zelda could feel how time had passed in the way Link reached out, gently touching her elbow as he moved closer to her, the way he glanced at her for a second before talking telling her that, although it had felt like her entire world had ended, to everyone but her, she was simply standing still. In a way, Zelda supposed that she had been standing still for years.</p>
<p>“Are you all right?” Link whispered to her, casting a glance towards where the door had closed after the king. “Zelda?”</p>
<p>That made Zelda look over at him. Pulling herself back to the situation she knew that she had to respond to required all her strength, but Link was here. If nothing else, she had to make sure that he would not be caught between his responsibility towards the king and herself.</p>
<p>Zelda cleared her throat, hoping that it would help achieve the same effect in her mind, ridding herself of the lump in her throat. “Yes. I… I will be all right, I just—I don’t know what to do now.” it felt wrong to admit it, especially since Zelda already did not know what to do about most of her responsibilities. Though she was able to name every plant in Hyrule by heart, could tell exactly how she was supposed to address everyone at court even if she was woken up in the middle of the night to answer the question, when it came to her most important responsibility towards her kingdom, making sure that she would be able to defend it once Ganon would awaken once more, Zelda was left with questions and no answers.</p>
<p>“You were about to head back to your chambers to write a letter to Lady Purah,” Link tried to help her, but from the way he hesitated before saying it, Zelda could tell that he—much like her—already knew that it was not what she had meant.</p>
<p>But although Zelda knew that she smile she sent him was so far from sincere as it could be, she was thankful for answer he had handed to her. “Oh, yes,” she said, nodding like she meant a word of what she was saying, “the letter to Purah. Thank you, Link, I had almost forgot about it.”</p>
<p>Link only nodded, and although Zelda knew that she should have worried about the implications of the look he sent her, pity, confusion, and something Zelda did not quite know how to interpret making his gaze turn dark, and how he was seeing past the façade, the desperate tone of her voice perhaps telling him that the princess of Hyrule did not have any idea of what she could do to save them all, she tried not to let the worries move even closer to her than they already were as she headed back inside, the soft sound of Link’s boots against the stones of the bridge telling her that he was doing his best not to disturb her as he followed along behind her.</p>
<p>Once, Zelda knew that she would have let the frustrations turn her around so that she could, for a moment, try to lie to herself and pretend that she enjoyed letting Link know that she did not need his help, that she would prefer if her would just leave, and try to ignore the way his saddened expression would only have made her stomach feel even heavier. But now, Zelda somehow found the energy to smile at him when he moved over to stand next to her as she sat down in the chair, pulling the inkbottle closer to her before picking up the quill.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Link.”</p>
<p>He blinked a couple of times before answering, and Zelda could feel how her chest only grew tighter every time it happened, as she found herself confronted with how the way she had acted for the first couple of months they had known each other still clung to the air between them.</p>
<p>But finally, Link did send her a short nod. “It was nothing, Zelda.”</p>
<p>“No,” Zelda insisted, “it really isn’t nothing. I mean it; I can’t thank you enough for having stayed with me out there, for everything you have done.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Zelda considered directing her attention towards the letter, but she knew that she would not be able to stop now, not when there was a chance that Link might interpret it as her simply thanking him for having saved her life when he had stood between her and the Yiga Clan. For although Zelda knew that she would never be able to thank him enough for that, for how he had risked his life to save the life of someone who had not done anything to deserve it, right now, it was about more than that.</p>
<p>So she shook her head, gesturing towards Link with the quill as she spoke, almost like she wanted to make sure that he knew that she was talking about him. “Truly, Link, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I—as I am sure you have noticed by now, I have yet to fully earn the title of princess. I haven’t found the powers, but… a couple of days ago, I—well, what I am trying to say is that I fear that I would already have given up a long time ago, had it not been for what you told me.” she shook her head, a humourless chuckle escaping her. “I know, I know. It is horrible to admit it, but I—there are times where the only thing I want to do is to leave all of this, all the responsibilities and the journeys, behind and instead escape out into the wild.”</p>
<p>The times she had found herself staring out of her window, trying to imagine what life would have been like if she had been born in one of the towns rather than as the princess of Hyrule were more than only a couple of moments, Zelda knew that. But since she already knew that the mere idea was evil, how it would mean leaving everyone else to die as she abandoned her duties, Zelda thought it wisest not to admit how many times she had really wished she would be able to leave her life behind to find another one.</p>
<p>However, when Link looked away from the drawings that decorated the wall above her desk, Zelda was surprised to see that, although she tried, she could not sense the same kind of disappointment she knew she would have found in the king’s face if she had told him even a tenth of what she had just shared with Link.</p>
<p>No, rather than telling her that they were all depending on her and her ability to seal Ganon away, Link simply shrugged. “Well, I suppose that if I had been given a task like yours, I would have felt the same.”</p>
<p>“What?” Zelda blinked. “But, Link you have been given that task, just look at the sword you are carrying!” she pointed towards the sheath that held the sword safely in place, already almost not believing what she was hearing. How could Link, after everything, after they had spent so many days travelling next to each other, telling the other about how they would rather have stayed home to sleep, Link admitting more than once that, most of all, he wished to be able to return home to his family in Hateno in a couple of years, once he would have ensured that the kingdom would be safe and he would have the means necessary to begin his own life, look at her and say that he did not believe he had been handed the same kind of responsibilities as she had with so much honesty in his voice? Zelda did not comprehend what she was hearing. It simply did not make sense.</p>
<p>It seemed, however, that Link did understand, or at least, he shook his head at her response. “No, I really don’t.” perhaps realising that she was moments away from interrupting him, he hurried to add. “Just think about it. If I fail, then at least I have not spent my entire life being told that this is what I was born to do. I only found out about my destiny four years ago—you have lived your entire life with that burden.”</p>
<p>A few years ago, Zelda would have been tempted to agree with him, to let him convince her that the responsibilities she faced far outweighed what he was forced to live with. But now, she knew better. The way Link had been unable to hide the sadness in his eyes as he had told her about his family and the younger sister he had not seen in years despite a promise that he would return soon he had given when he had first made his way to the capital had made sure of that.</p>
<p>So she did not let the conversation end there, instead looking over at Link. The movement caused a few drops of ink to fall onto the paper, obscuring a couple of the letters she had already scribbled onto it, but, right then, Zelda did not care about any of that, only about how Link was not meeting her gaze. “Link, you do know that you are allowed to feel like it was not right of the goddess to give you the task of having to dedicate your life to this—you do know that, right?”</p>
<p>“I do,” Link said. From the tone of his voice, Zelda could tell that that was not the case, a suspicion that only grew as Link looked down at the ground, “but does it even matter what I think?” as Zelda raised a brow, he continued. “I mean, I will have to play my part in the process whether I like it or not since not doing it will mean that I would have been the one to let Ganon return, something that will undoubtedly lead to everyone I have ever loved dying. Do you see what I mean? I don’t have a choice in all of this, so I try my best not to think about it. It will only bring me pain and sadness to allow myself to wonder what I would have done if I had not been chosen. It is just… easier that way.”</p>
<p>The thought that she might as well stop wondering about what would happen and what could have happened if she had not been born as the princess of Hyrule was not unfamiliar to Zelda, but for the longest time, she had assumed that it was due to how she had never known anything but life at the castle. If she had only got the chance to see what life was like outside the walls of the castle for herself, to try to run around in the marketplace in the middle of Castle Town, then perhaps she would not have longed for it like she did now. At least that was what Zelda had made herself believe in the past, finding what little comfort she could in the idea. But now, hearing Link echo the same thoughts back at her, the illusion shattered under the pressure.</p>
<p>“I suppose you are right,” she admitted, unable to keep back the sigh, “sometimes it just… does not feel right that I was never given a choice in all of this.”</p>
<p>Link placed a hand on her shoulder and had it not been for how Zelda was certain that letting him know how she was focusing on it would have made him remove it instantly, she might have reached up to place her own hand on top of it. “I know. It simply is not right.” Link let the sentence trail off, the way his voice slowly grew fainter letting Zelda know that although he was still standing right next to her, he had mentally left the room. Or at least he had, until he let out a little surprised sound and gestured towards the almost blank piece of paper that was still lying in front of her. “But weren’t you supposed to write that letter to Lady Purah?”</p>
<p>Zelda considered the question for a moment. He was right; she had been supposed to write that letter, to ask Purah if her research had yielded results. But now, in just a couple of minutes, the king had made sure that there was no need for the letter. It did not matter if Purah had found the answers to the questions they had discussed for months, at least not to Zelda anymore. Not when she was no longer allowed to waste her time on trying to find an answer through the Guardians rather than her powers.</p>
<p>Shaking her head, Zelda tried to keep her voice even. “No, I—you heard what the king said, I am not allowed to continue with my research.” she forced back a sob. While they might be confidants now, there were still things she preferred for Link not to know about, the need to keep her doubts private making her swallow the pain. “So this letter… there is no need for it anymore. Just throw it into the fireplace.”</p>
<p>But Link hesitated, and from the way he slowly leant closer to her, Zelda could tell that it was not due to something as simple as him having not heard her.</p>
<p>It was not until Zelda had almost opened her mouth to repeat the request that he finally spoke. “Zelda… the king—what if he wouldn’t have to hear about it?”</p>
<p>Zelda frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked, already knowing what the answer would be.</p>
<p>“Well, you could continue with your research and then simply not let the king know about it.”</p>
<p>“And how am I supposed to do that? He knows everything about what is happening in the castle; it would not be possible for me to leave without him knowing about it; I would not be able to communicate with Purah, Impa, or Robbie about the research without risking that someone would overhear and then tell him about it.”</p>
<p>“No,” Link insisted, “with all due respect to the king, Zelda, but there are things he does not know. We could tell him that it will take a bit longer for us to return home from the journeys. That way, you would be able to spend at least a couple of hours close to one of the excavations almost every time we have to travel to one of the springs—”</p>
<p>“But what about Purah—” Zelda began, but Link simply continued, undisturbed by the interruption.</p>
<p>“As for the question of how to communicate with them, I would be more than happy to deliver messages to her. Just let me know what I need to tell her, and then I will ensure that I can tell her without anyone knowing about it.”</p>
<p>It was a big favour to ask of him, Zelda knew that. Although he would most likely be saved by his position as the chosen hero, Zelda was certain that if the king were to learn about the offer he was making, Link would no longer be able to enjoy the privileges that came along with being liked by the king. But at the same time, Zelda would have lied if she tried to claim that the offer did not tempt her.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you could make sure that no one would find out about it?” she asked, trying one last time to give Link a chance to realise the risks he would take if he agreed to do something like that for her.</p>
<p>But Link simply nodded, and from the determination present in his eyes, Zelda could tell that he already knew about the dangers associated with going against direct orders from the king. “Yes. Just try to keep the messages short. I think that it would be a bit too risky to walk around with a letter detailing how you are still pursuing your dreams of getting more knowledge about the Guardians, but other than that, I don’t think that there would be too many dangers involved in this, at least not for me.”</p>
<p>Zelda wanted to argue with that, to tell him that although the king might like Link right now, that would be sure to change if he found out that he had helped her continue with her research. But as Link looked at her and Zelda could see the same fire in his eyes that had no doubt convinced the king that Link had been the hero chosen by the goddess, she found herself unable to object, instead nodding. “I would be grateful if you are really willing to do that. I am only asking you to please be aware of the dangers associated with what you are offering to do.”</p>
<p>“I am.” the tone of Link’s voice did not leave any room for doubts. “Tell me what you want to tell Lady Purah about, and then I will make sure that she will hear about it.”</p>
<p>And at last, Zelda found herself explaining to Link how she had spent the last couple of months trying to figure out if there was a way to circumvent the security measures that had been put in place to keep anyone but those chosen by the goddess to gain access to the Guardians, Shrines, and Divine Beasts, Link letting her know with a couple of nods from time to time that he was listening, although the focused look on his face would have told her the exact same thing. In the end, he repeated the words back to her, and Zelda was proud, though not exactly surprised, to admit that he seemed to have understood every word of it, or that he had at least understood enough to ensure that Purah would not be left without a vital piece of information when he would repeat it all once he had found her.</p>
<p>Brushing off another request for him to be careful with a confident smile, Link stood up, and, after reaching out to pull her in for a short embrace Zelda might have told herself was something she had merely imagined only a week ago, but now found herself cherishing, he took the half-finished letter from the table, throwing it into the flames in the fireplace before he left the room.</p>
<p>Zelda sat there, as silence filled the air around her, watching how the proof of what they had done disappeared, the paper soon becoming nothing but ash.</p>
<p>No, she realised, it was not simply proof that they had decided to defy the king’s orders. The fact that Link had left, not because he had found himself unable to stay in the same room as her for another second or because she had yelled at him, telling him to leave, but rather because he was trying to help her meant so much more. It was a sign that, despite the way she had acted for the first couple of months, they were really becoming friends now.</p>
<p>Although it had hurt when she had been told that she would not be allowed to waste her time by continuing with her research anymore, as Zelda glanced towards the door that had already closed behind Link, she was not sure that she would have changed anything if she would be given the chance. After all, the pain of knowing that she had disappointed her father once again was something she was used to by now, but the warmth that spread in her chest as the realisation that she had found a friend in Link dawned on her lasted for far longer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Father</strong>
</p>
<p>“Are you sure you are able to do this?” Link asked as he extended his hand towards her. The lines etched into his forehead, the way a frown was tucking at the corners of his lips, pulling them downwards, the complete opposite of how he usually looked, told Zelda what his own answer to that question would be ages before he had got the chance to continue. “Because no matter what you might think, you do not have to go through with this. I am sure that you will find the powers in time; perhaps this is simply not the right way.”</p>
<p>Zelda could hear how he was not only trying to convince her of that, but himself as well. No that she could blame him. If she had thought that she was growing more and more desperate as the days passed without her being any wiser, without her coming any closer to finding the answer to the question of just how she was supposed to make her powers manifest, to achieve what she had been born to do and save them all, Zelda was not sure what word she could use for those around her. As the monster attacks had slowly got more frequent and far bloodier, it had even reached a point where the servants had stopped ignoring her, instead stopping her in the corridors to all but beg her to find the way to save them. Once, Zelda had thought that nothing could be worse than feeling the coldness of knowing that two maids had been in the middle of a conversation just before she had entered the room, only for them to stop once they spotted her, but now she knew better. It pained her each time she would have to shake her head and admit that she was doing everything she could think of, that she was spending every waking moment trying to figure out how she could reach the goddess. The few times the person running up to her to ask her if she had found her powers had been a child, she had almost cried, only managing to keep back the tears until she was sure she was alone once more.</p>
<p>It was that, the way she could still remember how one of the maid’s children, a little girl clutching a doll, had looked at her when she had said that she believed in her, that she knew that their princess would save them just like her predecessors, that made Zelda nod even though the icy waters were already seeping into the hem of her dress, the chill digging into her skin, reaching towards her soul. “Yes,” she said, “I know. But I have to try.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Link looked like he might have tried to object, but Zelda could see from the way his glance flickered between her eyes and the spring behind her that he realised how nothing he could have said to her would have made her change her mind. And so, rather than trying to tell her once more how the only thing she would achieve was making herself ill, reminding her of what they both already knew to be the truth, he helped her down the slippery steps that led deeper into the water, only letting go of her hand when he would have fallen into the water if he had taken another step towards her.</p>
<p>Although Zelda knew that Link was only a couple of metres behind her, as she made her way closer to the statue of Hylia that stood on the other side of the spring, she could not remember having ever felt so alone.</p>
<p>The water was cold around her, and yet, Zelda was barely able to feel it as she bowed her head, settling into the usual feeling of despair that always washed over her as she would begin her prayers. Hylia, why was the statue so tall? It was almost like it had been built specifically to make the person standing before it feel small, towering up above the rest of the world with its mockingly serene gaze, beautiful and powerful. If so, the sculptor had achieved their goal, for as Zelda begged the goddess to let her feel her presence, to give her a sign, anything, even the slightest hint that she was indeed there, she had never felt so small, so lost in a world where she was supposed to have all the answers and yet found herself going to sleep each day with more questions than she had had when she had woken up that morning and no answers for any of them.</p>
<p>In the past, before he had grown tired of accompanying her to the springs—before he too had realised that Zelda simply did not possess the same innate powers as her mother, grandmother, and all the other princesses who had been able to lead the kingdom before her—her father had helped her up from the spring, using the corner of his cape to help her dry her face, a futile attempt at staying somewhat warm, while telling her that the goddess would be able to tell if she truly tried to find her powers. She would not answer someone who was not already able to act without her guidance, Zelda could remember how he had told her, for the goddess only helped those who were worthy, and to be worthy you had to show that you were able to fight for her and the honour of carrying divine abilities.</p>
<p>It had felt so ridiculous then, Zelda remembered. She could still recall how she had asked why it was so, if it would not be better for the goddess to help those who were unable to help themselves, the smile her father had sent her disappearing in an instant as he had told her, his cold voice making sure that she knew better than to ask again, that she was not in any position to question the goddess, not when she had already shown herself to be unable to manifest her powers. Not when she was a failure of a princess, heir to a throne that consisted of nothing but failure.</p>
<p>Now, Zelda could not help but wonder if the goddess had perhaps heard her back then and decided that, since she had disrespected her, she would never be able to control the powers she should have felt flow through her from birth. As much as she had tried her best to force herself to forget about that particular thought over the years, Zelda had never been able to make it disappear completely; it was always right there, waiting for a vulnerable moment where it would be able to return, reminding her of the possibility that she might already have doomed the kingdom and the people she was supposed to protect when she had not been any older than eight years old, tired, cold, and hungry for answers, an explanation that would make her understand why she could not do what she was supposed to.</p>
<p>Goddesses, if she really had done that, if one stupid question from so many years ago was the reason she was now crying in front of the statue of Hylia, begging the goddess to at least answer her plea to let her know what was wrong with her, what made her so different from the princesses who had come before her, Zelda did not know what she would do. How would she be able to return to her father and her people and know that no matter what precautions they would take, it would never be enough, all because she had asked questions that had never been meant for any of them to ask?</p>
<p>The answer was that she would not be able to. The realisation dawned on her the moment she could feel her body screaming for her to return to the steps that would lead her back up to Link, to the cape she knew he would be prepared to throw over her shoulders before leading her back to the campfire the rest of the soldiers who had been permitted to come with them to the Spring of Wisdom on the peak of Mount Lanayru would be sitting around, ready to hear if she had finally found the powers, their expressions showing how they did not have much hope left. She would not be able to return if she did not succeed now. It was not only a matter of pride anymore; now it was a matter of whether or not there was any reason for her to even return.</p>
<p>So even as she could feel how the cold seeped into every corner of her soul, Zelda stayed, begging the goddess and the statue in front of her to look at her and to see that she was only trying to save the people around her, all the innocents who had never asked for her to become their princess, those who had simply been unlucky enough to have to depend on her. And yet, even as Zelda began to sway from one side to the other, unable to keep her balance, her thoughts becoming slower and more fragmented, she was still left without an answer.</p>
<p>If she had had the energy to, Zelda might have attempted to yell at the statue, even if she knew that it would only make the situation worse. She could already feel what she would have screamed if she had found the strength to form the words, how she would have demanded to be given an explanation for why it was her, why she had been entrusted with the duty of saving them all. Link, Urbosa, Mipha, Revali, and Daruk, they had all agreed to play a part in their fight against Ganon. A few of them had not seemed all that excited about it when she had been sent to ask them, doing it solely because duty demanded it, but at least they had been given the chance to say no, to return to their old lives and try to forget about the consequences their choice would lead to, but she had never been given the option. From the very moment she had been born, Zelda had been meant to stand here in the spring, crying as she tried one last time to appeal to the goddess’ compassion for others. That was a virtue she had lost all faith in a long time ago, but still, she tried her best to at least make Hylia realise that those around her had never asked to have to give their lives because she was unable to control her powers.</p>
<p>The night around her remained silent, leaving Zelda with nothing but her thoughts and the growing feeling of despair that somehow felt even colder than the water around her.</p>
<p>Zelda could not tell exactly when time began to lose its meaning to her, but she did know that the sky was growing lighter when her body finally told her what she should perhaps have realised years ago: that she was not able to fight forever.</p>
<p>She fell. It was not even a matter of her having tried to walk back towards Link and slipping on the smooth stones that covered the bottom of the spring. One moment Zelda was standing up, and the next, she could see how the world was tilting around her, the water greeting her with the cold sensation of it seeping into her hair and the top of her dress, weighing her down even more as she felt her senses dim around her.</p>
<p>If Link had not been with her, Zelda was not sure what would have happened. Rationally, she knew that she would have begun to fight at some point, knowing that this was not only about her life but about how she would doom Hyrule if she gave up, but as Zelda tried to breathe, only to cough, letting go of precious air, when the only thing she was able to find was water, the icy chill of it almost rendering her unable to see as she tried her best to spit it out again, she doubted that she would have had the strength to push herself back up.</p>
<p>Perhaps that was why the surge of relief was more overwhelming than the fantastic sensation of being able to breathe again when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back up to the surface.</p>
<p>From the panicked voice and the way he wrapped an arm around her, already trying to make sure that she was all right, seemingly completely unaffected by the water, Zelda could tell that it was Link already before she had rubbed the water out of her eyes and looked up to see his face mere centimetres away from her own, his eyes practically shinning with worry and barely hidden fear.</p>
<p>It must have been clear that she was still conscious, still able to hear him, for Link let out a sigh. “Goddesses, Zelda, you cannot just do that. I thought—I thought,” the way he had to clear his throat, the broken sound of a sob still echoing as it travelled through the air, towards the mountains around them, let Zelda know exactly what he would say long before Link looked back over at her, “I thought that I might have been too late already.”</p>
<p>Even with the faint light that the rising sun provided, Zelda could not tell if the drops streaming down Link’s face had been caused by such a fear or if they were merely a consequence of having been forced to drag her back to the surface, diving into the water to catch her before she would have disappeared, escaped his grasp. She hoped for the latter.</p>
<p>“I am so sorry—” Zelda began, but she never got the chance to finish, as Link held up one hand, silencing her in an instant.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t want to hear that you are sorry, I want you to tell me that you simply did not realise that you were too tired to stay out here. Please, Zelda just look at me, look into my eyes and tell me that you must have been more tired than you had thought, that you truly believed you would be able to stay out here for a few minutes more, but that you must have underestimated the effect the cold water would have on you, and then I will never mention this again. Please, I am begging you, just tell me that.”</p>
<p>More than anything, Zelda wished that she would be able to do exactly that, but even as she tried, looked at Link and attempted to force herself to repeat what he had just said, Zelda found herself unable to form more than a few broken words.</p>
<p>Link must have realised what it meant already before Zelda fully did the same, for he shook his head. “Goddesses, Zelda. I—I don’t know what to say.” he looked down, almost like he only then saw that they were still standing in the water, and the next second, he had allowed the arm he had wrapped around her to become something not unlike a hug, taking her hand, and slowly begun to walk back towards the bank, making her follow along with him.</p>
<p>Had it not been for how she could look down and state that he really had pulled her closer towards him, Zelda doubted she would have been able to tell, with how numb the hours in the cold water had made her.</p>
<p>Even while walking, Link did not stop talking to her, seemingly not letting the fact that Zelda barely had the energy to answer him with more than a couple of muttered words stop him. “We need to get you back to the campfire,” he said while helping her move up the steps and onto the bank without slipping backwards in the process, “we—we need you to be warm again. Had it not been for how we had no other choice but to go up here and pray that this spring would be the one to awaken your powers, then I would have been ready to risk everything to tell the king that I would not be able to allow you to make that journey and stand in the water while knowing that you would have to walk back down a snow-covered mountain, that I would not be able to do that while also protecting you. Goddesses, now, I wish I had done it, powers and this being our last hope or not.”</p>
<p>“Link,” Zelda finally managed to stammer, and it seemed that the sound of her finally being able to say something intelligible, something that was not just a hushed ‘yes’ when he asked her if she needed him to slow down a little, was able to silence Link’s muttered assurances that he would never have let her go out into the water if he had known that this was how it would end far quicker than any order to do so could have done, “please don’t blame yourself for this.”</p>
<p>“How can I not? I was supposed to protect you. Zelda, if anything had happened to you, then it would have been my fault. No.” Link shook his head, the movement being so sudden that, had it not been for the cold making Zelda’s limbs feel heavy and tired, she might have twitched a little. “If anything had happened to you, I know that I would never have been able to forgive myself, but it would not have been because I had been the one the king had trusted enough to let me protect his daughter. It would have been because you are my friend, and I won’t ever let anything happen to you, not if I can do anything to stop it.”</p>
<p>Zelda could tell how the tears were dangerously close to streaming down her face now, and although her skin still hurt from the cold, she was grateful for how the water of the spring would make sure to hide the tears.</p>
<p>“Link,” she tried, “I—”</p>
<p>But Link interrupted her the moment she reached the top of the steps, joining her on the bank with a quick jump. “No, we can talk about this once we are back at the campfire. Right now, the only thing we should worry about is the fact that you are shaking.”</p>
<p>He was right. Zelda knew that the moment the words had left his mouth, she could feel how she was unable to stay still, her body moving uncontrollably each time the wind would hit her, making the already cold air around her feel like solid ice.</p>
<p>So although she might otherwise have tried to continue the conversation, Zelda found herself allowing Link to lead her back to the campfire.</p>
<p>Manoeuvring past where the other soldiers were already sitting on the ground, the tired expressions on their faces letting Zelda know that she was not the only one who was exhausted after the week they had spent travelling, trying to make their way up the mountain with the cold that seeped into them both from below where the layer of snow was often deep enough to reach to their knees and from all around them where the wind would try its best to send them crashing to the ground, sending shivers down their backs, Link whispered something to a couple of the soldiers sitting closest to the campfire. “There,” he said, as they got up to move away, “It will be best for you to sit close to the fire.”</p>
<p>The way he said it, the concern that had still not left his voice, let Zelda know exactly what he had just told the soldiers. The knowledge that the two men had just given up their positions closest to the fire for her, all because Link had asked them to, should perhaps have made Zelda feel bad, and in the back of her mind, Zelda could tell how the familiar nagging voice was indeed reminding her of how she did not deserve this, but the moment she was able to hold her hands out towards the flames, letting the fire warm them, she found herself unable to think about it, the absence of guilt leaving only room for gratefulness.</p>
<p>Turning towards Link, she tried her best to make her face form a smile. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“It was nothing,” Link insisted, already moving to sit down next to her, reaching out to help pull the blanket back up around her shoulders as it slid down, Zelda’s hands still feeling too much like solid ice for her to be able to stop the blanket from falling on her own, “if you really want to thank me, then try to stay warm.”</p>
<p>That, Zelda could do. So, leaning closer towards Link, not quite sure if the warmth in her chest had been caused by the fire or how he slung his arms around her shoulders, the movement being nowhere near as rehearsed as it had been only a little week ago, Zelda tried her best to follow his instructions, focusing on the way she could finally feel her fingers again.</p>
<p>She must have fallen asleep for a moment, for the next thing Zelda knew, Link was poking her shoulder slightly.</p>
<p>“Zelda,” he said, making her try her best to hide how she was blinking as she attempted to figure out how long she had been asleep for, “are you tired?”</p>
<p>“No,” Zelda said, though the yawn she was not able to supress disagreed with her, “I am just… exhausted, I suppose.” as Link lifted an eyebrow at that, Zelda knew that she would have to continue. “I am just… why are we even doing this? I think we all know by now that I am never going to be able to control my powers.”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that—” Link began, and Zelda could hear how he was prepared to argue with her for hours about that, so she hurried to interrupt him so that he would never get the chance to do so.</p>
<p>“No, I mean it. This is never going to awaken my powers. All I achieve by doing this is disappointing the people around me. You, the other Champions, my father most of all—”</p>
<p>At that, Link was no longer able to stay silent, and in a way, Zelda supposed she was grateful when he reached out to hold her hand, silencing her with a single glance. “Zelda, I know that you won’t believe me, but I am not disappointed in you. Really, if anything, I am impressed that you are able to continue to do this all the time, that you haven’t told the king that you refuse to continue with your travels to the springs. Goddesses know that I would have done that a long time ago if I had been in your place. As for the other Champions, I know that they would have agreed with me if they had been here.” he must have heard the way Zelda was not able to keep back a little, disbelieving sigh, for Link continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. “We—uh, we have talked about you a couple of times, and I can assure you that they think the same as me, that we would have given up a long time ago if we had been given your task.”</p>
<p>“But my father—” Zelda began. Though the option to simply agree with Link was tempting, with all its promises of her being able to let go of the duty for a moment, fact was that the person whose love and accept she wanted more than anything was also the one who always seemed to be disappointed no matter what she did.</p>
<p>Link sighed, and already, Zelda could tell that he did not have anything to say that would be able to assure her that she was merely not seeing the little ways her father tried to tell her that he did indeed love her. “Zelda, I doubt that there is anything I can say to make the relationship between you better. After all, you have known your father for so much longer than I have. But,” Link added, speaking quicker, perhaps seeing how Zelda had opened her mouth to agree with him, “perhaps you could write a letter to him.”</p>
<p>Instinctively, Zelda wanted to inform him that that would never work, to remind Link that she had already tried everything, both trying to appeal to her father’s pride, reminding him how the people were expecting for the king to be the epitome of grace and compassion, and to what little love she sometimes allowed to hope would still be present between them. But before she had time to find the words, as she thought about the idea, Zelda realised that there might be a chance that he could be right after all. She had never written a letter to her father, at least not one wherein she told him about her feelings and how the one thing she wanted most of all was for him to look at her and see her, Zelda, rather than a princess who had proved unable to control the powers that should have been given to her at birth. Indeed, there might be a chance that it could work.</p>
<p>Nodding slowly, Zelda could feel how a smile tucked at the corners of her lips, so unlike the way it usually felt when she would sit there at the campfire after another failed attempt at pleading with the goddess. “You are right, it might work,” she admitted, “but I don’t have anything to write on, much less a quill and ink.”</p>
<p>“I have that,” Link said, and the next moment, he had jumped up from his spot next to her, almost running towards the tent where they had left the kits.</p>
<p>It would appear that Link was even more excited about the prospect of her being able to reach her father than her, as impossible as it seemed when Zelda could feel how she was shaking as she tried to think of what she would tell her father, for he returned with several quills, holding them out towards her, motioning for her to choose one, before helping her create a somewhat smooth surface by jumping in the snow, making it form a slippery, but somewhat even surface beneath them, a surface Link then covered with his cape before placing the paper on it.</p>
<p>They leant in, Zelda hardly noticing the way her knees were shaking, the only barrier between herself and the snow being the cape and her thin ceremonial gown, when she began to write the letter. From his spot next to her, Link tried his best to help her when she would find herself without the words necessary to explain to her father how it made her feel when she would return home from every journey, already knowing that he would be disappointed. But most of all, Link helped by telling her to continue when she would hesitate, questioning whether or not she was really doing the right thing.</p>
<p>In the end, Zelda found herself sitting with a letter that only covered one page, but as she read through it again, she knew that it was all she needed to let her father know how she missed him.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?” Link asked, holding his hand out as he waited for her to hand him the letter.</p>
<p>The way her stomach turned told Zelda that she was very much not ready, but even then, she had to do it. If she would let her fears control her now, let them whisper to her how she needed to destroy the letter before anyone would ever get the chance to read it, things would never change between her and her father.</p>
<p>So she nodded and handed the letter to Link, trying her best to ignore the way her brain was screaming at her to tell him that she had changed her mind and wanted the letter back. “Yes,” she answered, “I am ready.”</p>
<p>The grave expression on Link’s face as he pulled her in for a quick hug told Zelda that even though she had tried her best to hide it from him, he knew what she was thinking. “I am so proud of you,” he whispered, still not letting go of her, and that, those simple words, was enough to render Zelda speechless, allowing Link to bring an end to the hug to instead walk over and give the letter to one of the soldiers without her coming with him to tell them how she no longer wished for the king to receive the letter.</p>
<p>It was for the better, Zelda knew that. Even as part of her wanted to ensure that the letter would never be read by anyone, she knew that she had to do it.</p>
<p>Perhaps that was why her body felt lighter, warmer, when she saw how the soldier, the face shield of his helmet obscuring his face, keeping her from being able to study his expression, nodded in response to what Link was telling him, taking the letter from him like it was something fragile, holding it close to him as he turned around to leave them. Zelda followed his path down the mountain for as long as she could, but before long, the soldier disappeared as the path turned.</p>
<p>Walking back over to her, Link followed her line of sight, placing his arm around her. “You did the right thing.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Zelda nodded, “I know I did.”</p>
<p>And for once, she truly did believe it.</p>
<p>Of course, as fate would have it, the soldier had only barely made it inside the gates of the castle when the attack began, the letter and all the thoughts Zelda had wanted to share with her father never reaching its addressee.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! If you want to yell at me for that ending, I am <a href="https://theseventhsage.tumblr.com/">theseventhsage</a> on Tumblr :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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